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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903272">A treasure to hold in your hands (or next to your heart)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormLeviosa/pseuds/StormLeviosa'>StormLeviosa</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batman Bingo 2020 fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Dragons, Batfamily (DCU), Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Fairy Tale Elements, Fairy Tale Style, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Gen, Jason Todd-centric, Light Angst, Not Canon Compliant, Storytelling, but who cares about that, does it count as father-son bonding if one of them is a dragon?, i know nothing about caves and it shows, it is after midnight and i have work tomorrow, no editing we die like robins</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 01:48:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>4,366</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26903272</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormLeviosa/pseuds/StormLeviosa</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i> “Once upon a time,” said the man to his son, “there was a dragon.” </i>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>A fairy tale featuring baby-Jason and Bruce as a dragon because why not.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jason Todd &amp; Bruce Wayne</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Batman Bingo 2020 fics [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1625461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>185</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Greatest Batfam Fics to Ever Exist</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A treasure to hold in your hands (or next to your heart)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Did I write this all in one sitting? Yes.<br/>Do I have at least three other things I should be writing? Yes.<br/>Do I have stuff to do tomorrow that I need to be awake for? Yes.<br/>Do I regret this? Absolutely not (but I might tomorrow)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Once upon a time,” said the man to his son, “there was a dragon.” The boy stared at him, eyes liquid silver in the dark. He blinked. Once. </p><p>“The dragon was big and strong and had an enormous hoard of gold that stretched farther than human eyes could see, all the way to the back of its cave, but the dragon had a hoard of secrets, too. Secrets that no one could ever know.”</p><p> </p><p>“What secrets?” said the boy to his father. “What couldn’t anyone know?” And the boy’s father smiled, because he was telling a good story and he wanted his son to be happy. Mostly he wanted him to sleep. But he wanted his son to be happy, too.</p><p> </p><p>“If you listen, I will tell you,” he said gravely. “The dragon lived in a cave that stretched for many miles beneath the surface of the earth, with caverns and twisty bits and many, many hidey-holes. The cave stretched right across the widest part of the mountains and on the other side, where the dragon did not go, was a city. Now, the city was very large and had lots of people but because it was on the side of a mountain, they didn’t have much to eat. And because there were lots of people and not a lot to eat, the people began to starve. I know that you have never been starving, but just imagine - for one moment - a hundred cats clawing at your insides. That is what a starving man feels.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy wrapped an arm around his stomach, as if to shield it from the hundred angry cats, and swallowed. Perhaps he was being too hard on the boy. Or perhaps the boy needed to learn about people who suffer and succeed anyway. They were certainly valuable stories.</p><p> </p><p>“The rich men in the city gave up. They packed up their gold and jewels, their pretty clothes and paintings. They packed up their wives and children, and moved back down to where the meadows were green and the cows were fat and the land more fertile so they could have an easy life with much pleasure. This is what rich men do: when the going gets tough, the rich get going. They do not lay down roots deep enough to survive the cold winters and so they always seek warmer, more profitable lands. Are you a rich man, son? If life gets hard will you give up or run away?” He poked the boy once, right in the chest, and the boy wriggled away.</p><p> </p><p>“No, papa,” he said, with the kind of severity common in men three times his age. The man nodded. Once.</p><p> </p><p>“The poor people did not give up. They had no gold and jewels, or pretty clothes and paintings. They did not pack up their wives and children. They did not leave. How could they? Fertile land was expensive and they’d laid down too many roots in hard stone to simply fly away. So even though there was little food, the poor men stayed in the city next to the dragon’s lair.” </p><p> </p><p>Outside, the street lamps glowed orange and the man tried not to look over his shoulder, but failed. They were like eyes: watching for a little boy’s feet that trod those streets long, long ago, pockets empty. Until they weren’t.</p><p> </p><p>“What happened to them, papa?” the boy asked, and he tore his eyes away from those glaring, haunting lights.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, son, they suffered and they went hungry and they tore up their leather boots to boil and they ate the tough stringy grass that grew in tufts and they gorged themselves on crystal clear water to fill the holes in their bellies. And then the snows came, and the passages down the mountains were blocked and there was nothing saved for winter. The poor people cried, because they thought they were going to die.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not sure I like this story,” said the boy to his father. “Are you sure it has a happy ending?” The boy’s father chuckled.</p><p> </p><p>“I <em> know </em>it has a happy ending,” he said. Somewhere in the dark beyond the city limits, the mountain loomed.</p><p> </p><p>“Now, at the edge of the city, in the poorest of the poor part of town, there lived a little boy. He had no house and no coat and no shoes and he’d traded his cup for a handful of wrinkly berries that morning. The berries tasted bad, but they tasted better than going hungry. This boy had no father, because he’d abandoned them to seek his fortune further down the mountain, and he had no mother, because she’d grown sick and died when the first snow fell. So the boy lived alone in the cold and tried not to imagine the kind of elaborate meals the rich people must be eating."</p><p>"One day, when the sun barely rose above the mountain top, he decided to go outside the city limits, to try and scavenge some more wrinkly berries, or maybe even catch a fish in the stream. He walked and he walked, until his bare feet bled and his lungs crumpled like paper bags and his fingers turned blue with cold, but still he could find nothing to eat. He sat down on a rock and thought maybe he should go home. It wasn’t like he was doing anyone any good out here alone in the wilderness and there were wild animals that came out at night. The boy didn’t want to be eaten by some other hungry beast any more than he wanted to starve, so he turned to return to the city. But as he turned, a spot of light caught the edge of his eye. What do you think it might be?”</p><p> </p><p>The boy thought, mouth twisting tight.</p><p> </p><p>“A fire?” he asks. “No! Gold!”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes,” the man said. “Yes. It was gold. A single golden coin. The boy picked it up and marvelled, because it was more money than he had ever seen in his life. If he could keep it, and survive until spring, it would be enough for him to move down the mountain to another city, where food was plentiful. He could even, maybe, go to school.” He laughed as the boy wrinkled his nose. “To you it might seem like a bad decision. But think: a free hot meal every day, a warm place to stay, and all the knowledge you could ever hope for. School seemed like heaven to the boy. So, he slipped the coin into his pocket and began to walk back to town. He had barely made it two metres before he was almost blinded again. This time it was a little silver brooch, all twisted like a celtic knot. He was happy, because this was also worth money, and it had a working pin so he could not lose it. And then again, he saw a glowing ruby, deep red like blood. The boy did not know he had stumbled on the overflow of the dragon’s hoard; he just knew he had found riches beyond his wildest dreams.”</p><p> </p><p>He was lost in the story now, and did not notice his fingers tracing the woven strands of silver on his brooch.</p><p> </p><p>“The boy grew greedy, as boys do, but he was practical, and decided to come back tomorrow when it was lighter. So he left the ruby on a tall standing stone as a marker, and returned to the city."</p><p>"That night, he shivered under a park bench, and frost gathered on the tips of his hair, but he dreamed of an enormous house with feasts and warm blankets and he didn’t feel the cold.”</p><p> </p><p>“This isn’t like that other story, is it, papa? The one with the girl and the matches and the Christmas dinner? He isn’t going to die, is he?” the boy whispered. He ignored him. </p><p> </p><p>“The next morning,” he said, “the boy ran to where he had left the ruby and began to search. He found wondrous things: golden cups, diamond rings, the crowns of ancient kings and queens. And then he found the entrance to the dragon’s lair.” The boy looked around, and saw, even in the darkness, gold edged picture frames, a silver mirror, a watch and chain set with pearls. A hoard of little shiny things. He had never asked where they came from. Perhaps he did not need to.</p><p> </p><p>“The dragon did not go to that side of the mountain, as I have already said, and the boy was lucky. He crept into the cave and gazed in awe at all the wondrous treasures within, but took from it nothing, because even this greedy little boy knew what a dragon’s hoard looked like. So he walked, and he marvelled, and he forgot about the sun setting and the creatures outside on the mountain. He forgot about cold nights and hunger and thirst. Everywhere he turned, there were more treasures. Soon, he came across a huge cavern, and in the cavern was an enormous, coiled, scaly mountain within a mountain.” The man raised his arms high above his head and the boy gaped. He was imaginative, but even he could not envision something so large.</p><p> </p><p>“It was the dragon, of course, but the dragon was asleep, and the boy was very foolish. He crept around the very edge of the dragon’s scaly tail, past legs like tree trunks and folded wings like the sails of the biggest ships. And still the dragon slept.” His fingers tapped lightly on the boy’s arm, like a tiny little puppet boy, creeping up the dragon’s leg.</p><p> </p><p>“He could see the moon beyond the dragon’s head. The boy had walked all the way through the mountain. In his rush to make it outside, he forgot the sleeping dragon and grew careless. He kicked one tiny copper coin, and that copper coin hit a golden staff, which toppled and hit a silver tray, which skittered and bounced and tapped a brass gong. And the dragon,” he whispered, leaning in close. “Woke. Up!”</p><p> </p><p>The boy shrieked and giggled as his father tickled him, squirming under the covers and flailing his arms. “Papa,” he whined. “Stop it. I want to hear the end of the story.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if you insist,” the man said to his son. “The dragon woke up and his eyes were like amber. They had slitted pupils, like a snake, and stared straight into the boy’s soul. The boy was not afraid, though perhaps he should have been, and stared straight back at the dragon as if he hadn’t been stealing from it just moments ago. There was stolen gold weighing down his pockets, and stolen jewels in his hands. But when the dragon began to shift and stir, the boy did not lay down quietly or beg forgiveness. The boy tossed a gold bar at the dragon’s gleaming amber eye and ran and shouted as loud as he could, ‘try and catch me, you big boob.’”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s a funny thing to say,” the boy giggled and his father huffed.</p><p> </p><p>“It was pretty normal back then,” he told his son. “You’re a bit of a boob, yourself.” The boy laughs again, shining eyes crinkled at the edges. His father’s eyes used to be silver like that, too. Once. They’re green now, like emeralds, like dragon scales. </p><p> </p><p>“The boy began to run, but he didn't get very far.  The dragon snaked out his tail and grabbed the boy right around his middle and flipped him upside down.” He didn’t do the same to his boy, not when he was meant to be going to sleep, but he’s done it enough times that the boy knew what it felt like to have the blood rush to your head and your fingers and toes to tingle with too much and too little blood. </p><p> </p><p>“The gold and the jewels and the stolen treasures tinkled on the floor in a pile at the dragon’s feet. It shook the boy once, twice, three times, and every time more fell out. A rumbling filled the cave and the boy stopped wriggling. For the first time, he felt true fear, right in the marrow of his bones. But the dragon did not eat the boy. The dragon did not breathe fire. The dragon was laughing. And when the dragon finished laughing, it put the boy down right way up, stared at him with one enormous eye, and said in a deep, echoing voice: ‘what is your name, boy, and how did you find my hoard?’ The boy did not shake or quake or stutter in fear. The boy stood up and said, as firmly as any boy who has just been shaken upside down and woken a dragon, ‘my name is Jason Todd. I will give you back your treasure, though really you don’t need it, but let me take one gold coin so I can get something to eat.’”</p><p> </p><p>“But that’s your name!” the boy exclaimed, and his father smiled at him. It was a tight-lipped smile, the kind that isn’t friendly or happy, but proud nonetheless.</p><p> </p><p>“Yes, it is. I did say I knew it had a happy ending, didn’t I?” the boy nodded and he continued the story.</p><p> </p><p>“The dragon considered this for a moment, before closing its eyes with a sigh. ‘You may choose one thing from my hoard to take,’ it said. ‘Something that will fit in your hands. I do not care for this mountain of gold and plundered jewels, in any case.’ Then it tucked its head back under its tail and went back to sleep. The boy spent hours searching for the perfect thing to take. He knew the fairy tales as well as anyone and he knew that if he made the wrong choice it would ruin him. So, he took his time and searched the cavern fully, but he couldn’t decide what to take."</p><p>"In the morning, the dragon woke and saw the boy was still there. ‘Why are you still here, Jason Todd,’ it rumbled. ‘Take something and leave me to my grief.’ For you see, this dragon had lost both its parents on that self-same night many years ago, and while it kept their hoard safe, it didn’t have one of its own, nor care much for gold and jewels. This is one of the dragon’s secrets. The boy did not answer straight away. He was examining a magic mirror. But when he told the dragon its hoard was too immense to choose one thing from in so short a time, the dragon merely grunted. ‘Stay another day, then, it matters not. Just choose one thing that fits in your hands.’”</p><p> </p><p>The man took his son’s hands and held them in front of him, cupped into a bowl. “You see,” he told the boy. “It is not so big. You’d think it would be easy. But there were so many wonders in that cave it would take a lifetime to choose between them.”</p><p> </p><p>“So, the boy wandered all day long, through narrow twisty passages lined with treasure chests, through shallow pools studded with crystals, through hollows filled with coins and tunnels piled high with tangles of jewelry, but still he couldn’t find that one thing to take. At the end of the day, when the moon began to shine, he returned to the cavern in which the dragon slept and asked it for more time. The dragon did not say no, so the boy curled up next to a pile of fine silks and velvets and slept deeply and warmly for the first time.”</p><p>“He woke up to the dragon’s hot breath on his face. ‘Why are you still here, Jason Todd?’ the dragon asked. ‘I gave you one more day. Why do you sleep among my hoard?’ and the boy did not know how to answer, because he did not want to be eaten by the dragon and he did not dare disrespect it by saying it had not refused him. Instead he stood and wrapped some cloth around him like a cape, used the brooch to fasten it, and stalked off into the cave. This time, he was determined to find a treasure he could fit in his hands.” </p><p> </p><p>The clock ticked closer to midnight but the boy did not seem tired, so his father carried on telling the story.</p><p> </p><p>“He found himself in a cavern filled with books. And even though the boy could barely read, he passed the whole day in there and found nothing to take with him. Everything was of equal value to him. So that night he returned to the dragon and begged for another day. The dragon asked what had captured him so completely, that he hadn’t left that cavern. ‘Books,’ the boy replied. ‘Knowledge is more valuable than any jewel, but I can barely read and books will not fill my stomach nor warm my fingers and toes.’ The dragon rumbled deep in its chest and the boy knew he had done something right.”</p><p>“‘Bring me a book tomorrow, Jason Todd, and I will teach you how to read,’ it said. Then it went back to sleep and the boy soon followed.”</p><p>“The next morning, the boy piled his arms high with books of all kinds: adventure and romance and fairy tale and grimoire and sciences and journals and treatises from ancient kingdoms long forgotten. The dragon rumbled a laugh when it saw. ‘You are hungry, Jason,’ it said and the boy nodded. Neither of them knew whether it meant for knowledge or for food. Even though the boy was very hungry, he forgot about it when the dragon began to teach. Because the dragon was a good teacher, and the boy was a quick learner, they read a great many books together. The dragon enjoyed talking with someone about intellectual things. It hadn’t stretched its mind so far in many years. The boy asked for another day, and the dragon said yes."</p><p>"That night, when the boy lay down on the floor, the dragon stretched out its wing and said, ‘come sleep beside me, Jaylad, you will be warmer against my scales than you ever would be on the stone floor.’ And though the boy was nervous still, he did not dare refuse the dragon and slept curled up beneath its wing. The dragon was right, it was much warmer there, and the boy felt safe and loved.”</p><p> </p><p>He smiled at his son and his son smiled back. “You see,” he said. “I told you it has a happy ending.”</p><p> </p><p>“But, Papa,” his son complained, “the story isn’t over yet.”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course it’s not,” he said, rolling his eyes, and got up to draw the curtain closed. He did not want to feel the mountain watching anymore.</p><p> </p><p>“The boy grew comfortable with the dragon, and the dragon grew comfortable with the boy, until eventually the dragon asked once more why the boy did not go home to his town. ‘There is nothing there,’ the boy told the dragon. ‘There is nothing to eat and no books to read and it is always cold. I would much rather stay here with you. And besides,’ he said, ‘I have not found a treasure that can fit in my hands.’ The dragon huffed, but did not complain, and it did not tell the boy to hurry up like it had in the past. The boy turned the page of the book he was reading and smiled. He scratched the dragon's foot just the way it liked but could not reach and the dragon sighed. ‘I suppose you can stay longer,’ it said. ‘You are a polite boy and do not make trouble.’ The boy thanked the dragon and returned to his book.”</p><p>“In truth, the boy was in no hurry to leave. The caves were warm and the dragon brought back food so he didn’t starve. He did not need shoes because the stone had been worn smooth by many years of scaly tails rubbing it down and he did not need a match or tinder for a fire when he had dragon breath. So, he read his books and explored the many tunnels and crevices of the mountain and still he couldn’t make a decision. When spring came, the boy did not sneak away with gold coins, because the boy kept his word. The dragon asked why the boy did not leave now that there was more food to eat and it was not so cold. ‘There is no one who cares,’ the boy told the dragon. ‘My parents are gone and no one will look for another orphan boy when there are so many others to feed. And besides,’ he said, ‘I still have not found a treasure that can fit in my hands.’ The dragon watched the boy as he flicked through a book fatter than his head and its tail twitched. ‘Stay if you must,’ it said. ‘It is no trouble. But you must call me Bruce, not dragon.’ The boy thanked the dragon and called it by name and the dragon was content.”</p><p> </p><p>The boy yawned and the man patted his head. “Are you tired, son?”</p><p> </p><p>“No!” the boy cried. “I want to hear the end of the story.”</p><p> </p><p>“Alright,” the man said. “It is not long now.”</p><p> </p><p>“The boy and the dragon became friends as spring turned to summer. But with food in his belly and knowledge in his brain, the boy was growing bigger. And boys are not dragons. They cannot stay in the mountains forever. So the dragon asked the boy why he stayed, even though he could go out into the world and seek fame and fortune. “There is more fortune here than I could find in a hundred years,’ the boy told the dragon. ‘There are more books than the biggest libraries and more gold than the oldest banks. And besides,’ he said, ‘I have not found a treasure that will fit in my hands.’ The dragon had not forgotten the bargain it made all those months ago, just like the boy had not, and it was proud of his dragon-like memory. ‘Stay until the first frost,’ it said. ‘Then you should go to study among the humans. An old dragon like me can only teach you so much.’ The boy frowned but did not protest.”</p><p>“The boy spent his summers reading to the dragon and walking the length of the dragon’s hoard. It did not take nearly so long now he had longer and stronger legs. Still he could not find a treasure to take. He grew frantic, for summer goes fast in the mountains and he did not want to leave. He read as many books as he could, wrote notes to help him remember, and tried to avoid the dragon. The dragon was hurt by this, for he loved the boy as his own son now. This was another of the dragon's secrets that he could not tell a soul. And when the boy came back to its cavern one day it asked why he distanced himself so thoroughly, if he no longer enjoyed the dragon’s company and wanted to leave. ‘Of course not,’ the boy told the dragon. ‘I cherish every day I spend in your hoard. But leaving will hurt more than any wound or broken limb. And besides,’ he said, ‘I have not found a treasure that will fit in my hands.’ Both boy and dragon had tears in their eyes and both were too stubborn to let the other see. The dragon dreaded their parting just as much as the boy did. ‘I would rather bite off my own wing than lose you,’ it said. ‘But you must live among humans and not an old dragon like me. Do not worry about finding a treasure. I have my own gift for you.’ The boy was sadder still, but no longer so frantic and once again spent his time with the dragon.”</p><p>“When the first frost came, the boy packed a bag with a notebook, a feather pen and his cloak with the silver brooch. This the dragon allowed him to take from its hoard. When he was ready, the boy turned to the dragon and knelt before it. He hugged the old dragon’s head and scratched its scales in just the way it liked but could never reach. The dragon asked the boy if he would accept the dragon’s gift before he left. ‘I would be honoured,’ he said. ‘You have given me everything I could dream of and more. I cannot imagine a gift greater than what you have already given me, but you are welcome to try. So long as it is a treasure that fits in my hands.’ And the dragon stared at the boy with piercing amber eyes and its tail twitched and its wings flared and from the centre of its chest, right above its heart, the dragon plucked one singular scale to give to the boy. It fit perfectly into his cupped hands. This was another of the dragon's secrets: he had given away his heart-scale to a human.”</p><p>“The boy stared at the dragon and the dragon stared back and both of them had tears in their eyes but both were too stubborn to let them fall. ‘Keep it next to your heart always,’ the dragon named Bruce said, ‘and we will never be apart no matter how far you may travel.’ And so the boy left to study among the humans and to seek his fortune with a dragon scale next to his heart. But when he grew up and had to settle down, he returned again to the city on the mountain, where the dragon still lives today.”</p><p> </p><p>"And that's the end," said the man to his son, "I told you it had a happy ending."</p><p> </p><p>"It's not <em>real </em>though, is it, papa?" the boy yawned, and blinked. Once.</p><p> </p><p>"Of course it's real," said Jason Todd, thirty years to the day after he left the mountain. "I can take you to see him tomorrow, if you like."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I hope you liked my foray into fairy-tale writing. I honestly have no idea where this came from but I know better than to let ideas pass you by.</p><p>It actually fills a bingo square, which is always cool. I'm running out of time to do those.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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